


Bun In the Oven

by CrackingLamb



Series: Junkyard Additions: A Series of Holiday Related Stories [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Basically this is a sequel to Junkyard Dogs, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Halloween, Post-Canon, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: Small town life with a bread baking husband, Institute survivors making trouble, Brotherhood of Steel getting antsy, big news of the unexpected variety...Whatever is a Minuteman General to do?





	1. Chapter 1

Nora Howard woke up feeling... _off_. Nothing specific, nothing she could put her finger on. Just...off. Maybe it was the seasonal change from warm summer-like conditions to rainy cold days and bitter cold nights. Maybe it was because the Commonwealth was actually at peace for the first time in too long and she had nothing to do anymore, relatively speaking. Maybe it was just because another birthday had come and gone in the wasteland and she was feeling her years.

 _239_. 212 years since the bombs dropped and changed the world forever. She groaned and rolled over to discover that Hancock had already gotten up and his side of the bed was cold. Now that she was awake, she could hear him puttering around in the kitchen and the scent of hubflower coffee was suddenly strong in her nose. She got up and pushed her arms into the tattered old robe she'd brought home from Far Harbor before stumbling down the hall to the bathroom to pee and splash water on her face. The water was icy and it cleared the last few cobwebs from her brain, waking her fully. She patted her face dry on a towel and ran her fingers through her hair. It was getting long again, winding around her hands in loose curls that always seemed to catch in just the wrong way. The once bright magenta color she'd worn during her days of fighting the Institute was long gone, and her natural red had returned.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Hancock said as she entered the kitchen area. His back was to her, hunched over a large bowl on the counter. She took in the frockcoat hanging over the back of one of the stools set up at the bar separating the kitchen from the living room, his rolled up sleeves and the faint wisp of razorgrain flour in the air and smiled.

“Morning, love. Making bread?”

“Gonna try something a bit different,” he replied, kneading the mixture in his bowl with strong, sure hands. After two years, he was well practiced in his art now, but she never failed to marvel at it. She peeked over his shoulder to look at the mixture, which admittedly didn't look any different to her untrained eyes, and kissed his cheek. He hummed an acknowledgment and she grinned. He always got so into his breadmaking that nothing could interrupt him. She left him to it and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Her gaze wandered around the kitchen as she leaned on the bar, seeing all the little things that had changed these four battered walls into a home. A box of Sugar Bombs sat next to an empty bowl with a plastic spoon in it – Shaun must have been up just as early as Hancock and was already off to school – a glass jar half filled with sludge sat on the windowsill – Hancock's attempt to capture a wild yeast, remarkably successful if the bubbles meant anything – dirty dishes piled haphazardly in the sink from last night's dinner...all evidence of a family life well lived. She took a sip of her coffee and nearly spit it back out.

“Ugh,” she said after she'd managed to swallow it.

“What's wrong?” Hancock asked.

“Did you burn this?”

“What do you mean?”

“It tastes...harsh.”

“Well you are drinking it black,” he said after glancing into her mug. He was right, she realized. Normally she put brahmin milk and a bit of honey in it to sweeten it and blunt the edges of the burnt vegetation taste.

“Huh, guess I'm not as awake as I thought I was,” she murmured, going to the cold box and grabbing the glass pitcher of milk. She watched the thin milk swirl around in the mug, falling slowly to the bottom before rising back up again. Hancock snorted over his shoulder at her unusual forgetfulness and went back to his dough, now a smooth round ball.

“All right, that needs to rise, then I can portion it.”

“What are you making?”

“Buns...well, rolls. New recipe.” He nodded over to where his breadmaking book lay open across the stove burners. Nora looked over the recipe and nodded, although it didn't make much sense to her. Still, she always tried to be appreciative of Hancock's enthusiasm for baking, and she certainly couldn't complain about the end results. Bread was one of the first things she'd missed upon waking up in the new world. And quite possibly the one she'd missed the most. She had no trouble at all admitting she was a carboholic.

“Anything else going on?” she asked, drinking her now perfectly sweet and creamy coffee.

“Not a whole lot. Preston asked if you could stop by when you had a moment. It wasn't urgent, he said, just a report he'd gotten from Blake Abernathy that he didn't quite understand.” Hancock eyed her as he wiped off his hands. “Really, Nora? You went ahead and talked to Blake about radstags?”

“I did,” she confirmed with a grin. “We're going to try to catch some fawns in the spring.”

Hancock shook his head at her, but made no comment. He was well aware of her notion to tame radstags and turn them into mounts so they didn't have to walk every damn where. If he thought the idea was somewhat outlandish, he kept it to himself. He knew all too well how Nora's outlandish notions tended to become fact. “He mentioned some garbled message from the Castle too.”

“Hmm, that bears investigation sooner rather than later,” Nora mused. “If there's something wrong with the radio tower, we'll need to get on it fast. Just because the big bad boogeyman is gone doesn't mean there aren't still raiders and shit.”

“I know, Sunshine. I told him you'd look into it when you had a chance.” She grinned behind his back; he knew her well and knew that she'd be fine with doing the job as long as she didn't have to listen to Preston's constant harping while she was at it.

 _That's unfair_ , she chastised herself. _Preston is a good man. It's not his fault he got saddled with a whole organization basically overnight_.

 _So did you_ , she reminded her affronted mental voice.

 _No, I chose this_ , her inner voice said. For a single moment she missed Nate, almost missed the days when she could hear his voice in her head like a ghost of the past, steering her right and making her accountable to herself. She turned to her head as if she could see through the walls to where Nate lay buried on the hill that led towards the Vault. Other graves had joined his in the two years since destroying the Institute, but his still stood prominently on the hill, a simple stone plinth decorated with his dog tags from Anchorage.

Shaking her head at herself, Nora finished off her coffee and went to get dressed. For the first time since she woke from cryo sleep, her jeans felt tight. She wasn't sure if she should be pleased or not. She brushed out her hair and pulled it back into a simple ponytail and thought about breakfast. She didn't really want Sugar Bombs, and the cold box had been fairly bare aside from the milk, some mutfruits and the leftover brahmin from last night. Maybe there was still bread in Hancock's stash of baked goods.

There was, and once she'd downed a couple slices spread with butter, she headed out the door to face the day. Before she could cross the road to Sturges' workshop – all the other Quincy survivors were now living in their own homes scattered throughout the settlement – she heard the distinctive sound of a vertibird coming up over the hill.

“Brotherhood...this early?” MacCready said idly as he sauntered past. He stopped next to her and they watched the ungainly vehicle lower itself to the empty lot that had once been a house. Now only the foundation remained. Nora had been thinking of building something there for some time, she just hadn't gotten around to it.

“As if I needed more on my plate today,” she muttered. Dealing with Elder Maxson never failed to get her dander up. That boy was too big for his britches, and arrogant to boot. And all his knights and paladins were just as bad in her opinion.

She sighed and started down the road to the vertibird now that it had landed and shutting down, the breeze from its rotors ruffling her hair. A familiar face stepped down the 'bird and she held back an immediate reaction to frown.

“Good morning, Knight Rhys,” she said in greeting, keeping her voice light and neutral.

“General Howard,” the perpetually scowling knight returned. More than two years of living in the Commonwealth hadn't done much to improve Rhys's temperament, but then again, she hadn't expected it to. Her policies on inclusion went against everything the Brotherhood stood for, and they were forever in a fragile truce about how the Commonwealth should be governed. She'd granted them permission to use the airport as their base, and to maintain several points south as their own – including Fort Strong, the Sentinel Site and their research facility at Vault 95 – but she didn't tolerate their prejudices influencing other regions of their shared little piece of the world.

“What brings you so far from the airport?”

“A report from our squad down in the Glowing Sea. Elder Maxson thought you would want to know.”

“Shall we step into my office?” she asked, gesturing to the tall structure that held the market, salons and, upstairs within the imposing guard tower, her public office as General. He followed her there and sat heavily in the chair she offered him across from hers at her desk. “Tell me.”

“Our squad was attacked at the Sentinel Site.”

“By whom?”

“Institute survivors.”

“Oh hell.”

***

“What do you think, Mom? Scientist or baseball player?”

“Well, it's your decision, Shaun. Looks like it's gonna be a chilly one this year.”

“Yeah. Curie said the weather patterns are going back to normal, whatever that means.”

“She means that after so many years, the upper atmosphere is healing from the bombs, dear. There's less radiation in the Glowing Sea to disrupt the air currents.” Nora continued drying and putting away dishes as she and Shaun worked out his Halloween costume. It had become Shaun's favorite part of the year, a time when he could just pretend to be something he wasn't, a rarity for her synth son.

“Well, if I do the scientist, I can bundle up underneath the lab coat.”

“You could,” she agreed absently. The news from the Sentinel Site had her worried and she'd forgotten what day it was entirely after her conversation with Rhys. She knew she was going to have to make a trip to the Castle and see what her Minutemen had been able to discover before she talked to Maxson in person. There was no question of leaving this problem in someone else's hands. She was still the General, and it was only through her own mercy that there were any survivors from the Institute to begin with.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“That Brotherhood guy, Rhys? Why is he so angry all the time?”

Nora stopped working on the dishes and looked over at her son, perched on a barstool. Rhys had hung around after their meeting, taking in the sights, as he put it, and building a report for the Elder on how her settlement worked. She wondered if the Brotherhood of Steel was planning to build themselves something similar and stop living in their floating fortress. Had to be getting cramped in there after all this time.

“He's not very happy about still being here. I think he and all the other BoS soldiers hoped they would have gone back home by now.”

“Where is their home?”

“The Capital Wasteland. Elder Maxson is in charge of all the Brotherhood on this side of the country. Remember I showed you on the globe how big the country is?”

“Yeah, I remember. How come you never talked about them before?”

“Because I don't have a lot of dealings with them, Shaun. They don't agree with me that ghouls and synths are people too, or that they should have any rights. And I don't agree that technology will be the downfall of mankind. So we try to stay out of each other's way.”

“Oh, is that why Rhys is so rude to Dad?”

“He is a thoroughly unpleasant person,” Hancock chimed in from the door where he had just entered. He looked exasperated, and Nora figured he'd had another run in with the knight. They had never gotten along – Hancock's ghoulism not the least of their differences – and nothing under the sun was likely to change that any time soon. “Being rude is probably the best thing he's good at.”

“He's loyal to his beliefs, at least.”

“If that counts for anything...” Hancock said sardonically. “Anyway, he says they'll be heading out in the morning.”

“Good enough,” Nora replied.

“He wasn't too happy about you putting off joining him.”

“Of course he wasn't. Well, he doesn't have children, so he doesn't understand why they come first.” She tweaked Shaun's hair and made him grin. “Go on, now, dear. Get your costume ready.”

“Okay, Mom.” Shaun ran down the hall to his room and turned on his radio. Nora could hear Travis giving out the latest news. The Institute attack had already made its way through the rumor mill to Diamond City. That meant Piper was likely to want to talk to her too.

Hancock washed his hands in the remains of her soapy water and dried them off with a ragged towel. “We're gonna need new ones soon,” he commented.

“Yeah. I'll talk to Evelyn next time we're in Hangman's Alley. She's gotten her loom up and running again.”

He grunted and went to check on his dough, now doubled in size and ready for his next step. Sturges had made a beautiful cutting board from the stump of an old oak for her last Christmas, and it was one of Hancock's prized possessions now. He rolled the mass of dough onto the board and began shaping it into a symmetrical log. He then cut the log into equal sized chunks, rolling each one into a ball until he had about a dozen. Nora realized why his hands had been so dirty – he had been stoking the wood into the stove to the proper temperature for baking.

“So...you wanna tell me what's gotten Rhys more hot and bothered than usual?”

“Institute survivors attacked the Sentinel Site and forced the squadron out. Apparently they intend to make it a new base of operations.”

“I've never judged anything you've done for this Commonwealth, Sunshine, but I gotta admit, leavin' those bastards alive probably wasn't the best decision you ever made.”

“Most of them were civilians, John. I couldn't very well let them go down in flames with the few assholes that were down there.”

“Ah well, no point arguin' it now. What are you going to do?”

“I want to check in with Ronnie Shaw and then I suppose I should make an appearance on the Prydwen and soothe any of Arthur's ruffled feathers.”

“Pfft. Like that'll do anything. Need me to come with?”

“You don't have to if you'd rather stay here. I can take Mac, or Preston for that matter. It would be good for him to stretch his legs a bit.”

“If I stay here, you gonna hit up Piper too?” She grinned at him, grateful that he understood so well how her mind worked.

“I was thinking of it. I know she's told us that Diamond City is getting better about ghouls, but...still...”

“No sense in pouring gas on that fire, right?”

“You don't mind?”

“Nah, Shaun and me, we'll do manly stuff while you're gone.”

She leaned over and kissed his temple, chuckling softly. “Manly stuff, eh? Says the man covered in razorgrain flour.”

“Heh, didn't you say some of the world's best chefs were men?”

“Only because they didn't want to let the women outclass them,” she reminded him. There were many things Nora missed from the pre-war world, and there were many more that she did not. “First things first, though. It's Halloween. That means we need to carve gourds and take Shaun trick or treating.”

“Right.” Hancock transferred his rolls to a flat metal sheet and dusted them with corn meal. He covered them with the towel and set the sheet on top of the stove as it warmed before he turned to her and grabbed her around the middle. “Kiss me first,” he said, lowering his face to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him plunder, feeling a rush go through her as always. He tasted of smoke and Mentats and hubflower coffee.

“Guess I need to dig out a costume for myself, huh.”

“There's always the Shroud outfit.”

Nora laughed. “I suppose there is.”

***

They carved their gourds and put them on the stoop in front of the house, each one lit with a stub of a candle. They glowed nicely, and for a moment Nora wished she had a working camera, although that thought in turn provided the next that they would need working development chemicals too. She cut off her bemused internal rambling and went back inside to pull the Silver Shroud outfit from her trunk. The material was heavier than it looked, thanks to Kent's tinkering with it, and it fell in thick folds around her as she tied the sash at her waist. With a scarf around her neck, and the black fedora on her head, she was transformed.

Shaun came out of his room wearing a Vault-Tec lab coat over his clothes, the sleeves baggy and long on his frame. He'd grown taller, but was still as skinny as a twig. Hancock provided a pair of welding goggles – one of the wasteland's last remaining remnants of safety wear – and handed him the plastic pumpkin bucket the boy used for trick or treating. Hancock himself wore a smart pin striped suit and carried the Silver Shroud's prop machine gun on his hip.

“Dad, what are you dressed up as?” Shaun asked.

“I'm a Triggerman,” the ghoul laughed.

“I always did like a well dressed man,” Nora said, laughing along with him.

Hancock leered lasciviously at her over Shaun's head, but the boy knew anyway and started to make a face. “Gah, you two are weird.”

“Yeah, but you're stuck with us,” Nora said, running her fingers through her son's hair. She helped his position the goggles on his forehead so he could still see where he was going as they wandered through Sanctuary's streets and then they were out the door, joining in with the number of other parents and children enjoying the holiday.

Once they'd made the rounds of all the houses in Sanctuary, even crossing the bridge to the new ones built on the far side of the stream, and Shaun's pumpkin bucket was filled with Fancy Lads, Dandy Boys and gumdrops, the small family went home. Hancock's rolls had come out perfect – as usual – and while he cut them in half to make sandwiches, Nora took out the haunch of roasted brahmin and began slicing it as thin as she could.

“I miss horseradish,” she said, piling her roll high with the meat.

“What's horseradish, Mom?” Shaun asked.

“It was a plant that we used to grind up the roots for to make a spicy condiment. It was great on beef.”

“Oh.”

“I wonder if there's still some around and we wastelanders just don't know what it is,” Hancock said.

“It's always possible. It likes water, and can look just like a weed, so I guess it's the sort of thing that could get overlooked. Maybe the next time I go scavving I'll see if I can find some.”

“Changing the world, one plant at a time,” Hancock teased. She grinned at him and took a bite of her sadly horseradish free sandwich.

“You know it, baby.”

After their dinner, and once Shaun had gone through his bucket with meticulous precision, Nora and Hancock went up to the roof and snuggled together in the nook he'd built her. The night was turning cold, with clouds scudding by obscuring the moon.

“Are you worried about this?” Hancock asked, lighting up a cigarette. The smoke was strong in her nose in the enclosed space and she shifted away from him to get clearer air. Normally it didn't bother her – especially since she was known to indulge from time to time herself – but at that moment it felt too stifling.

“I am a bit. So many of the scientists became good citizens of the Commonwealth. It bothers me that the few that didn't might make trouble.”

“You'll get it figured out, Sunshine. You always do.”

“I know. It's just...I'd hoped it was over, ya know? That we could get on with our lives in peace. I don't want to go back to the days of always looking over my shoulder for the next threat.”

“Maybe they just want to be peaceful too.” He sounded sarcastic and she didn't blame him.

“Unlikely. I sure wouldn't bet on it.”

“Nah, I wouldn't either.” He finished his smoke and stubbed the butt into the ashtray before pulling her back into his arms. “C'mere, you. Lemme keep ya warm.”

She sighed in contentment as his heat washed over her. Even in the dead of winter he could keep her warm up here, although there were blankets stashed in the nook too if she ever felt the need to just hide up here. That's why he'd built this little space. The night's quiet settled over Sanctuary Hills, and the faint starlight made everything glow. A breeze kicked up, bringing with it the scent of woodsmoke, dried leaves and coming snow. It would be a long walk from here to the Castle, she knew, and she should get some rest. But she was too comfortable in Hancock's embrace to move. Something still didn't feel right inside her, but she didn't worry about it too much. Just like everything else, she'd figure it out soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Nora sauntered into the open courtyard of the Castle, Preston and MacCready at her side. Hancock stayed behind with Shaun, and heaven only knew what those two were up to now. The trio had stopped at Diamond City and talked to Piper, who was nearly rabid to hear any news that wasn't hearsay. She in turn had nothing more than rumor to give back to the Minuteman General, but Nora didn't feel like it had been a wasted trip.

The combination of sea air, mirelurk scat, manure in the garden and woodsmoke assaulted Nora's nose as she approached her stronghold and she gagged, nearly losing the battle to keep down her breakfast. She'd been feeling off still, with no idea what to make of it. She'd already discovered that the smell of cigarette smoke set off her stomach too, and she had no urge whatsoever to smoke suddenly. She wondered if maybe she was coming down with something. She was normally pretty healthy, and fairly resistant to Commonwealth viruses due to her healthier immune system, but that didn't mean something new hadn't cropped up that she was vulnerable to.

Ronnie Shaw marched up to them as they entered the Castle proper, her scowling face set in its usual harsh lines. “Good to see you, General.”

“And you, Ronnie. Any news that hasn't been passed along Radio Freedom?”

“Not that I've heard. That gasbag is still sittin' over there taking up airspace, but no one's come knocking. There were only a few survivors from the attack that made it back. They passed through here on their way, looking for medical attention, but they didn't stay once they saw all we had was Curie. You might want to talk to your Courser friend, too. He's been sneaking out at night. The watch has seen him.”

“Hmm,” Nora hummed. She could understand why Ronnie was distrustful of X6 considering his origins. She spun on her heel to give orders to Preston to see about restocking their supplies for their reconnaissance to the Sentinel Site when a wave of dizziness washed over her and she stumbled. Her vision narrowed to sparkles and black spots, and she felt like she could barely hold up her head.

“General!” she heard distantly from several voices, but it was Mac's thin arms that wrapped around her ribs and hauled her to her feet.

“Nora, _you_ should see Curie while you're here,” the merc whispered in her ear. She was about to fight him on it, to insist that she was fine, but the strength of her arguments was nullified since she could barely see straight.

She sighed. “Fine, all right. Take me to her?”

“Sure thing.” Curie ran both a medical lab and a distillery from one of the wings of the Castle, and the scent of antiseptic and fermenting grain was all Nora could smell as Mac helped her inside.

“Is Madame unwell?” the slender synth asked when MacCready deposited her in a chair.

“ _Something_ isn't right with her, Curie. She just about passed out in my arms out there.”

“Let us see, then.” Curie had never given up wearing a lab coat and glasses once she'd discovered the respect the former earned her and the improvement to the synth's eyes the latter gave. She still looked waifish and young, but no one doubted the brilliant mind behind the pretty pixie face. She examined Nora's eyes and listened to her heartbeat, counting out her pulse with slim fingers in her wrist joint.

“Honestly, I'm just tired,” Nora protested.

“Madame, you know as well as I that it never hurts to be completely sure. I shall test every avenue.”

“If you think it's necessary.”

“I do, Madame.” Curie shooed Mac away and told him sternly to close the lab door behind him; they were not to be disturbed. She made Nora get undressed and lay her back on her exam table - a salvaged gurney from some hospital or other.

“You've upgraded in here since the last time I visited.”

“I have. X6-88 has been an invaluable help to me in finding items of use.”

“X has been helping you?”

“Of course, Madame. Should he not?”

“It just seems strange that X would be helping another synth.”

“He is a most wonderful friend to me, Madame. Always courteous, always so generous.”

“We _are_ talking about the same Courser I brought home from the Institute, correct?”

“Indeed.” Curie looked rather animated, now that Nora's eyes had cleared and she got a good look at her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes flashed.

 _What the hell is going on under my nose?_ she thought. She determined finding her wayward Courser needed to be a top priority once Curie released her from whatever tests she was going to do.

“How long have you been feeling unwell, Madame?” Curie asked her in a different tone, less conversational and more medically brisk. Nora suppressed the urge to grin at the abrupt change in attitude.

“I don't know, a couple weeks? And I don't feel 'unwell', I'm just...tired, I guess. And my stomach's been funny. Everything smells stronger, to the point where I gag on it.”

“And the lightheadedness?”

“That was the first time that happened.”

“You have been eating properly, I assume? Drinking enough purified water?”

“Of course.”

“Forgive the impertinence of this next question, Madame...”

“Curie, you're my doctor. Nothing is impertinent.” Curie frowned at her slightly, while pressing on her abdomen with cool fingers. Nora felt chastised for interrupting.

“Madame, may I ask when your last period was?”

***

Nora sat near the gravelly remains of the eastern facing artillery cannon, staring out to sea in shock, her legs hanging over the side of the concrete wall.

_How did this even happen?_

_What am I supposed to do with this?_

_How will I tell John? And Shaun? And..._

“General?” It was Preston, his footsteps stopping a few feet back. “Is everything all right?”

She barely heard him over the tumult in her head. For the first time in nearly three years, the sound of Nate's voice floated in her skull.

 _You know you want to keep it, my heart_ , his ghost said.

 _I think...I think I do_...

“General?” Preston sounded more insistent.

“What? Oh, Preston. Hey there.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything is...well...” She laughed then, threw her head back and laughed. “Everything is complicated as hell, and about to get a lot more interesting, but...” She looked over at the first person she'd met upon leaving the confines of the Vault. Her heart swelled to look at him, seeing him now confident and happy. Everything he'd set out to do he'd managed. With her help they'd rebuilt the Minutemen from the ground up. She was proud to call him her friend. “Everything is wonderful, I think.”

“What do you mean?” She beckoned him over to her, patted the ground so he'd sit and once he was settled on the dirt, his feet hanging over the edge like hers were, she grinned at him.

“You and Mac are gonna have to make that trip to the Glowing Sea without me, I'm afraid.”

“What do you mean? Are you sick?”

“No, Pres. I'm pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, dear reader. The next installment of the series should happen around Thanksgiving (that's November 22 for all you non-US folks).

**Author's Note:**

> Samhain blessings to all on this Halloween!


End file.
